


Coming Attractions

by Beth H (bethbethbeth)



Series: In-Laws [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Coming Out, Crack, M/M, flashfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-28
Updated: 2003-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethbethbeth/pseuds/Beth%20H
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray Kowalski's dad has a new VCR.  State-of-the art equipment.  Or better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Attractions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Movie Challenge on [ds_flashfiction](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_flashfiction/)
> 
>  
> 
> This story - a sort of sequel to "Preturnatural Guidance" - would have been the perfect opportunity to write my crack-brained _Wizard of Oz_ dS AU, but for some strange reason the thought of Fraser in a blue-and-white gingham dress just wasn't working for me, so this story appeared in its place.

Ray laughed when Fraser walked into the living room.

"Chased you out of the kitchen, didn't she? I told you Mom wasn't going to let you help with the washing up."

"Perhaps your father would appreciate . . . ."

"Fraser, you want a little piece of advice? Do _not_ suggest to my dad that he needs help with this. He almost snapped my fingers off when I tried to hand him a screwdriver."

"I hope you know better than to listen to a word that boy says, Benton," Damian Kowalski said from the narrow space in back of the entertainment center. "I just have one more wire to connect and . . . there. All set."

He came out from behind the unit and set the tools down on the coffee table.

"Barbara!" he yelled. "The dishes can wait. Come on out here."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Damian," she said, coming into the room. "Sometimes you're as bad as a kid with a new toy."

"This isn't a toy," he huffed. "State-of-the art equipment."

Ray snorted. "It's just a VCR, Dad, not a prototype for a Russian spy satellite."

Damian shook his head, then patted the top of the television. "We'll see if you're still laughing in a few minutes, boy. Barbara, take a seat on the couch. You too, Benton, on the other side of that smart-mouthed son of mine."

He waited until everyone was seated, then put a tape into the VCR and hit play. For a moment, there was nothing but blue, then the image of a drooling, wide-eyed, bald baby filled the t.v. screen.

"Oh heavens! Just look at that precious face!" Barbara turned toward her red-faced son, then looked back at the screen and beamed. "He still looks the same, Damian. He hasn't changed a bit."

"Mom!"

Fraser looked back and forth between the screen and his partner, then nodded. "You really do seem to have retained a great many of your youthful features, Ray."

"Shut up, Fraser," Ray muttered.

"Although you rarely drool when you're awake these days."

"What did I just say? I'm warning . . . ."

"Quiet, Son. Let everyone hear the . . . here it comes!"

The scene switched to a blond toddler dressed only in an oversized Cubs t-shirt, holding a wooden spoon in his hand as if it were a microphone, and singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."

"Pretty good sound quality, isn't it?" Damian said, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Ernie Pandarski's kid, Tom, knows a guy who converts 8mm films to video tape. All those old home movies were just gathering dust in Aunt Sophie's attic, so I figured, what the hell, right?"

Barbara smiled at him. "This was a wonderful idea, Damian. We haven't looked at some of these in . . . oh look! There's Stanley and Matt Esposito in their Cub Scout uniforms. Benton, were you ever in the Scouts?"

Fraser nodded. "For a brief period of time, Mrs. Kowalski. However, most unfortunately, we were never able to acquire official uniforms."

"Yeah," said Ray. "That's because they didn't have any Boy Scout uniforms made for a girl."

Barbara frowned a little. "You had a girl in your troop? I had no idea things were so . . . forward-thinking where you grew up, Benton."

He smiled. "I believe Joon would have preferred to join the Girl Scouts, but the only other children interested in the scouting program were her brother and me. I'm afraid she was outvoted."

"I don't know, Fraser. From what you told me . . . ." Ray groaned as the next scene began. "You couldn't just let that one die a natural death, could you Dad? You know there's no law that says you have to transfer _all_ the movies."

"I didn't transfer everything," Damian said. "Just the ones I know your mother liked the most."

Ray turned to his mom and scowled. "You got a secret thing for guys in drag?"

"Oh hush. You were a wonderful Mary Todd Lincoln in the fifth grade play."

Ray slumped down and half-covered his face with a pillow. "Never let anyone make you go to an all-boys Catholic grade school, Fraser."

Fraser turned to face Ray. "You know . . . in my admittedly limited experience, one's even more likely to find oneself wearing a dress at an all-girl's Catholic school."

"Huh? Oh. Oh yeah." Ray grinned. "Too bad Dad doesn't have film of that somewhere on this tape."

"Look here, Benton" said Damian. "See that lady in the green dress?"

"I'm afraid I don't . . . ."

"The one hiding behind the potted palm."

"Ah. Yes, I believe I can see her now."

"That was Raymond's grandmother. Never did like having her picture taken. She lived just long enough to see Raymond graduate from highschool."

"I'm sure she was a lovely woman, sir."

"Hey! That's the day we first got the Goat running! Check it out, Fraser. It was still baby blue." Ray looked at his younger self mugging for the camera and laughed. "Stella wanted me to keep it that color. She said it went with her eye shadow."

"What made you change the color, then?"

"I was boxing a lot back then. Okay, I was getting punched in the face a lot. Black went with _my_ eye shadow."

Fraser smiled, then turned back to the screen where Ray, wearing a tuxedo, was feeding cake to his new bride.

Ray's eyes darted over to his partner. "We don't have to keep watching this if you're getting tired of it," he whispered.

Fraser shook his head. "It's fine, Ray."

"That's it for the tape. I'll just . . . " Damian frowned. "It looks like there's something else here."

Ray's eyes widened. "Wow! That's cool. How'd you get a copy of my homerun?"

Damian stared at the t.v. screen. "I didn't. Barbara? We haven't seen this, have we?"

"No, dear. We've just heard Stanley talk about it." She reached over and took her son's hand. "That was very good, sweetheart."

"Oh heavens!" she gasped, squeezing Ray's hand tightly. "That looks dangerous, jumping off a roof into . . . is that Lake Michigan?"

Ray stared, open-mouthed, at the screen."What the hell? Fraser? Did you see anyone with a camera that day?"

Fraser swallowed hard. "No . . . not that I . . . no."

Damian looked away from the screen, now showing an image of his son jumping through a skylight, and faced Ray.

"I don't suppose you know what's going on here, son."

Ray shook his head. "Not a fucking clue."

"Raymond. Your mother's right next to you."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Stanley? Is something wrong?"

Damian could see his son shiver as the image of Raymond and Fraser sledding down a mountainside flashed across the screen. The two men looked at each other. They didn't look like they had any better idea of what was going on than he did.

"I don't know, Mom. It's . . . there's something kinda queer about this tape."

Damian watched as an image of his son . . . kissing his partner appeared on the screen. He sat down heavily on the arm of the couch, and reached for his wife's free hand.

Barbara looked at her son. "Would someone please tell me what's going on? I don't remember anyone filming us at . . . where is that, Stanley?"

The scene playing out on the screen was - impossible.

Ray and Fraser standing next to a grill in the backyard of a house Damian had never seen. Barbara, her hair no longer grey, but pure white, sitting in a lawn chair nearby, leaning over to pet a small puppy. Damian, leaning heavily on a wooden cane, telling a story about his days in the merchant marines to Fraser. And Ray, sporting a goatee, one arm wrapped around Fraser's waist, slipping pieces of steak to a much-aged Diefenbaker, who lay curled up at his feet.

Finally, the screen went bright blue. The tape had ended.

Ray looked over at Fraser. "So . . . um . . . ."

Fraser blinked, then shook his head. "No idea."

Damian squeezed his silent wife's shoulder, then got up and walked over to the VCR and removed the tape.

For a minute, nobody spoke, then Barbara got up from the couch and said, "I think we could all use a nice cup of tea."

"Could I give you a hand, Mrs. Kowalski?" Fraser said, starting to rise.

"Oh heavens, no. You just stay here and . . . Benton, under the circumstances, don't you think it's time you started calling me Barbara?"

Damian watched his wife leave the room, then turned his attention to examining his fingernails. When he looked up, Raymond and his . . . partner were staring at each other, both looking a little like Matt Krawcek did after he'd been on a week-long bender.

"So . . . " he started, then closed his mouth again and shook his head. That was one hell of a movie. "So . . . ."

Ray scrubbed at his face and sighed. "You got something you want to ask, go ahead and ask."

Damian looked at the videotape he was still holding in his hand. He glanced over at Fraser, who was examining _his_ fingernails, then turned back and saw a look of resignation on his son's face, like Raymond was just waiting for the yelling to start.

What the hell. It was just a movie.

"It'll keep, son. Let's go see how your mother's getting on with that tea."


End file.
